


Thinking of You

by dankou



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Memories, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 19:26:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16069724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dankou/pseuds/dankou
Summary: A year after Ostagar, Carver finds he has someone occupying his mind and reminisces on old memories.





	1. Carver

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.

It has been, what, a year? Since I last saw you. Since the darkspawn tore us apart.

I think of you when I walk through the markets in Kirkwall. The aroma of freshly baked bread and pastry on the market stalls takes me back to when I first got that job at your grandmother’s bakery in Lothering. Mum had taught me how to cook a few meals while Beth and Xavier were off learning magic, but I wasn’t much good at the baking side of things. Though you seemed all too eager to teach me. I did have a job on the farm too at the time - I hope you realise I only got this job to spend more time with you.

I remember how patient you were with me whenever I got pissed off that I couldn’t bake things perfectly first time. How your eyes lit up whenever you’d ramble about a new recipe you’d learnt from some outsider passing through. How we’d sit on the counter-tops, clothes covered with flour, eating the leftover batter from the mixing bowls until we felt sick.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.

We passed through Darktown today because my brother needed to pick some shit up from Anders’ clinic. I saw a few kids with ragged clothes and grazed knees sparring with whatever leftover scrap wood they could find to use as makeshift swords on the street. Well, if you can even consider the sewers a ‘street’ anyway.

It reminded me of how we used to spar and train together in the fields on the outskirts. We were so determined to be famous swordsmen. We’d pester almost every poor sod with skill in combat that ventured through our little town. Never had the coin for ‘proper’ training, for whatever that means. It never stopped us. 

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. 

It’s almost harvest yet it’s still too bloody warm in the Free Marches. This time of year in the south we’d already be bundled up warm for the chilly weather and the trees would be looking all sorts of oranges, reds and browns. There are a few festivities on the streets here but it’s just not the same as the ones we had.

Remember that festival with the archery contest you entered but I couldn’t watch because Barlin made me muck out the damn stables all day? I broke one thing and I get punished on festival day! Grumpy old dog he was. I knew you’d win anyway but I wish I could’ve been there to see the look on the other contestants faces when you wiped the floor with them. 

In the evening when the bands were playing and everyone was dancing in the town centre, all I could do was watch from a distance. Barlin was off having a pint while I was just here covered in crap and bored as fuck. You came over to keep me company with that wide grin of yours. I remember you saying that if I couldn’t join in the festivities, that you’d bring the festivities to me. I laughed it off, of course. But then you held me close and swayed with me to the sound of the music we could hear in the distance. It… surprised me at first. But I knew then how I felt about you. I looked up at you, mesmerised by how the light from the lanterns that decorated the barn glistened in your eyes, and that’s when those words slipped out. That’s when I told you I loved you for the first time.

Your face… Your eyes were widened and you had such surprised look about you. That’s when I realised I had said it out loud. Maker, you didn’t have to look so shocked. I was worried I had fucked it all up! But then your eyes softened and your face was painted with a smile. And you told me you loved me, too. 

And… Then you told me I smelt like horse shit. Way to ruin the moment, you big idiot.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.

I’ve tried to move on from you, I’m not gonna lie. I met this girl, one of my brother’s friends, and she’s very sweet. Her name is Merrill. She’s a mage, and she’s Dalish but living in Kirkwall’s alienage. Definitely of one the more agreeable of brother’s company. And she seems to like me for me, and not just because I’m “Hawke’s brother”. And yes, everyone seems to call Xavier “Hawke” now. Fantastic.

But it’s just not the same. Maybe I’m out of practice, I don’t know. But it just doesn’t come natural to me anymore. With you I felt comfortable. I felt happy. It just felt… right, y’know? I don’t think my heart will ever belong to anyone else, honestly. And… I don’t think I want it to, either.

I sometimes think about how different things could have been if I had just worked up the courage to just tell my family about you. About us. What was I so afraid of? In hindsight, there was nothing stopping me except my own damn insecurity. Where would we be now? Was what happened inevitable? It’s killing me not knowing.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.

My mind is cluttered with ‘what if’s and ‘what could have been’. Are you out there? Are you alive? Maybe if I had been quicker or stronger, then…

I’ve been thinking about…

I’ve been…

What’s the point?

Matthew, I miss you. And Beth. And everyone.

Perhaps the Maker is cruel after all.


	2. Matthew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Blight, there is not much else to distract Matthew from the thoughts of Carver.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.

Fighting alongside Redcliffe’s forces to defeat the darkspawn served as a sort of distraction from the fact that you’re not here. And it worked, for a time. But the Blight’s over and I feel so… lost.

I moved to Denerim to help rebuild and maybe find work as a cook somewhere. I think my fighting days are over, if I can help it. There are others who fled Lothering here, too. You remember Peaches, right? Hasn’t changed. She still falls for any handsome guy with brawn over brains. Thankfully, I’ve managed to avoid her for the most part. It’s not easy hearing her ramble on about you.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.

I got some work as one of the kitchen staff down at this little cafe. It has a few battle scars, but it wasn’t as affected by the Blight as some of the other buildings in the city. It definitely has character and it does get quite busy, though it’s not as noisy as you’d expect. I think people are still in the stage of processing everything that happened. I can hardly blame them. The best thing we can do is to keep things moving and bring people familiar comforts.

I find myself instinctively turning to you while I’m cooking to make a comment here and there about something funny I know you’d like. Only you’re not there beside me when I do. I wonder where you are. Are you, by some miracle, alive? Are you… by the Maker’s side? I… No… I don’t want to think about this.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.

There was a ceremony today held by Queen Anora awarding medals of service to those who served in the military effort against the Blight. I was recognised as a soldier who served on behalf of Arl Eamon, though I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve such an honour. You were much more skilled and courageous than I.

It haunts me reliving the moment you were impaled while shielding me from harm. It was a foolish mistake to leave myself so open to attack like that, and you paid the price for my actions. I hope… I hope someone found you. I hope you’re alive safe and happy somewhere. Maybe I am fool to wish for such things, but I don’t really have much else to lose at this point.

I just… I’m sorry.

I know what you’d say. And I know you’d talk my ear off about blaming myself when the situation was difficult and heck, I even lost my eye... but I can’t help it. I feel like I could’ve done more.   
But I guess dwelling on it won’t change the past.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.

It’s almost harvest here and the streets are littered with golds and maroons. Frost blanketed the grass this morning and the sky was grey full of clouds. Venturing through town I happened upon a grand oak in the park with its leaves ready to colour the ground. It reminded me of that tall oak near the lake just outside the village - the one we used to hang out by when we wanted to be alone.

One autumn day, much like today, we sat beneath the oak, surrounded by a sea of sunset. There, we talked about life. Our dreams. About how one day we’d settle somewhere sweet in the countryside with a little farm and maybe even have a family. It was then we made a promise. A promise that nothing would ever come between us. Perhaps we were young and innocent back then, but we meant every word.

You even wanted to make it official. You unravelled your carmine scarf and faced me, then decorated it resting upon my shoulders and around my neck. You paused to examine me for a moment, and then smiled softly. I remember you saying how your family has a tradition of giving the one your to whom your heart belongs a red favour as a token of your love and loyalty. It may not have been a red handkerchief like how it’s supposed to be in the tradition, you explained, but the sentiment was there. It was “close enough”, you said.

I wear your scarf wherever I go. Especially during this time, it provides warmth to endure the cold. And to be able to carry a little piece of you with me is such a comfort for me.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.

I’ve heard about the refugees who fled north to the Free Marches to escape the Blight. About how poor their living conditions are and how the Marchers would’ve been more than happy to throw them back into the darkspawn’s grasp. It’s infuriating that they’d treat our countrymen so poorly, and I know if you were here too you’d also be livid about it. 

I’ve made my choice. I have been saving up coin from my cafe job and I’ve decided to head north to aid the refugees living in the slums. I’m done moping around feeling sorry for myself. There’s no more “I wish I could’ve done something”. I may not have been able to help you, but I can do something now. Even if it’s just providing food in the slums.

Your mother’s from Kirkwall, right? The refugees have things especially bad there. That’s where my heart is leading me. Perhaps it’s hopeless chasing after any signs of you, but at least I can make a difference. Or at least try to.

I think about you all the time.

And I will go on.


End file.
